Jesus spoke to his disciples, saying, “Do not think I have come to abolish the law or the prophets. I have come not to abolish but to fulfill.” In fulfilling the law, Jesus is taking the external law and bringing it to completion in Himself and through his actions. Thus, Jesus invites us to write it on our hearts. How? Everything Jesus did and said taught us how.

This third week of Lent gives me pause to evaluate my progress again. Yesterday’s Gospel on forgiveness is a great place to begin. Peter asks, “Lord, if my brother sins against me, how often must I forgive him? As many as seven times?”

As humans, we tend to limit love and forgiveness. Think about it: in a family setting, you could use up all seven times in a day. In my motherhood, I worked in the trenches for decades, helping to raise five kids. As predicted, there would be times when skirmishes and disagreements would break out among the kids. The sorry word was tossed around like confetti to appease Mom and escape the situation unscathed. “What do you say to your brother with a Lego embedded in his head?” Sorry. “Did you color your sister’s face with a permanent marker?” Yeah, I was making her a clown. Sorry. I remember saying to them in exasperation, “Your sorry doesn’t count; you have to mean it.”

Enter Jesus, who exemplifies what it means to write God’s law on our hearts. We need to go deeper and take a moment to realize that our infraction cost someone something. It’s about putting myself in someone else’s shoes and extending sorrow for the offense from that place of compassion. That is hard to do when I feel justified, the stakes are higher, or I am convinced I am right. I remember one of the questions on the marriage inventory that we would go over with the couple, “I have to win arguments.” For their consideration, I stated, “If one of you must always win, you both lose.” We cannot treat one another like a game of checkers.

It boils down to relationships. We are all sons and daughters of the Father. For humanity to function, we must learn how to love liberally and forgive without counting. Don’t we want that ourselves?

“Contrary to all natural instinct and speculation, in Christianity, not only the offender but also the offended bear responsibility because the innocent Jesus freely undertook to suffer for the sins of others.”

Erasmo Leiva-Merikakis

Again, Jesus is the ideal model for us. In a few weeks on Good Friday and especially at every Mass, we are reminded of what our failure to forgive and our sins cost the Innocent One. Can we not, in imitation of Him, attempt to forgive lavishly?

I have offered forgiveness for the offenses I felt I incurred in the past. God seems to be showing me how many times I could have responded differently, given someone the benefit of the doubt, or not placed my own expectations on them. “The offended and the offender both bear responsibility.”

In going deeper this Lent, I plan to take into adoration those circumstances and offenders, simply giving it all to Jesus. I will intentionally forgive them by name when possible, asking forgiveness for any part I played, and lay it all at His feet. I’m tired of carrying it around, frankly. It seems to loom just under the surface, hiding in the shadows. Enough! The more we hang on to old hurts and injustices, the less room there is for God’s healing grace. It’s time to clean out those nasty cobwebs and feel the freedom and tsunami of graces Christ wishes to fulfill in us. Confession is the best place to start, and if you have done that but still have traces of memories, you might try what I am doing.

“Everyone thinks forgiveness is a lovely idea until he has something to forgive.”

CS Lewis